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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23949103">yukio and the ephermity of wilting flowers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisokapocalypse/pseuds/hisokapocalypse'>hisokapocalypse</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A3! (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drabble, Gen, It's not really a ship fic, M/M, No Beta We Die Like August</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:22:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>707</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23949103</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisokapocalypse/pseuds/hisokapocalypse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He closed his eyes.</p><p>Thinking about it just made it worse, didn't it?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kamikizaka Reni/Tachibana Yukio</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>yukio and the ephermity of wilting flowers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/asteroidea/gifts">asteroidea</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>OK SO THE WRITING IS AWFUL AND I DIDNT EDIT IT BUT I REALLY WANTED TO HAVE THE FIRST RENI/YUKIO FIC ON AO3<br/>I KNOW YUKIO DISAPPEARED IT MAKES SENSE KIND OF<br/>I'LL WRITE SOMETHING LONGER AND NOT COMPLETE SHIT NEXT TIME<br/></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Yukio closes his eyes, in hopes of not having to perceive the empty theatre.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This place was–– well, had been–- his solace, the one escape from the world when problems seemed to pile on like ornaments on an evergreen. It seemed, though, that his tree had broken under the pressure, leaving all the carefully-balanced extensions of itself broken on the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...it was a stupid analogy, anyways. He isn’t quite sure where that came from–– perhaps from the insanity that was sure to begin to set in, now, that he’d realized his company, his actors, his... </span>
  <em>
    <span>“family” </span>
  </em>
  <span>was currently a set of scattered strangers all over the country, some who left without even a tear to their goodbyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course, there’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> who is waiting for him outside, with a steely gaze and what, for sure, will be the true signifier of his work’s encoreless finale.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But-- but!-- he can sit here, in this cushioned chair, and pretend everything is alright. Yet the blissful silence that he’d once found a comforting has turned to an oppressive force, giving him nothing to focus on but the plight at hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the echoing knocks on the heavy door, but he can push those from his mind. He’d rather focus on his failure as a concept than it embodied; it stung, sure, but it wasn’t the knife through his chest he saw flying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ah...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A bit of water trickles down his face, surely the byproduct of the imaginary rain that comes indoors. Maybe a soundless fire alarm; what is he to know, he’s only built this place up from scratch? Yet he will not shed a single tear; no, only a couple dozen will do. He’d never really been one to cry... </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yukio isn’t sure how much time has passed, really. It’s not as if it matters, anymore-- there is no matinee to rouse the cast for, no schoolchildren who need transport back and forth. It’s so abnormally calm in here that he can’t even feel like it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>theatre. It’s just... one of the many on this street.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It hurts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It hurts almost as much as the stopping of the steady rhythm of knocking coming to a standstill; instead, there’s a creaking of a door, and in comes the man he’s hidden himself from for the past week. Perhaps he’s a coward, and he’s definitely a fool; there’s no way this could have been avoided, in any case–– only delayed until it became so overwhelming that it forced itself to the forefront of his dilemma.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tachibana.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Tachibana</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Reni.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hates how he sounds, broken and defeat. He can’t let people see him like this. It’s shameful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t be serious. Are you just going to sit here and bask in your own </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid </span>
  </em>
  <span>self-pity?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Reni storms up to him, in his own way. His usual grace is gone; instead, it’s turned to pure rage, practically burning the air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wait–- no, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>burning the air. It’s a fire, spreading from his own personal horror. He can’t feel the heat from not, and nor does he smell smoke–– only sees the inferno beginning, exploding like the ticking time bomb he knew passion to be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is ridiculous! </span>
  <em>
    <span>When</span>
  </em>
  <span> are you going to realize that you can’t just–– just </span>
  <em>
    <span>run away</span>
  </em>
  <span> like this!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How long has it been since they started the company? Ten years? Eleven?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hates this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fire. God. It’s all burning away. The curtains, the beams, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>stage</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Everything they’ve built up––</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wonder if you’ll even remember me, even after all of this is gone.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hands are shaking. His entire body is... </span>
  <em>
    <span>shaking</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s okay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’re in bed, Reni sprawled out on the left, him almost falling off the right. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nothing bad will happen to them. They’re safe, here, in this new millennium. They’ve got nine years under their belt; it’s not as if they’re stopping now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rolls over onto his side, passing the half-boundary of their relatively small bed. Yukio’s arm wraps the other man, and Reni lets out a sleepy bit of protest, a “The hell, Yukio?”, but still burrows into him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s about time they wake up, but he can’t help but let himself sleep through the alarm. Just this once, then. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for getting through 600 words of this!!!<br/>my twt is @hisokapocalypse and i am a gekkagumi oshi... i don't know what i'm doing here :(<br/>go follow @godzastan for reni shit<br/>ok bye!!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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